


Used

by kronette



Category: Red Dwarf
Genre: Dominance, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Season/Series 08, Service Submission, Submission, Virus Made Them Do It, under the influence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-12
Updated: 2013-11-12
Packaged: 2017-12-31 05:22:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1027711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kronette/pseuds/kronette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set at the end of "Back in the Red part 3." Lister dumps the sexual magnetism virus over Rimmer. The other prisoners turn hungry eyes and hands on Rimmer...but someone unexpected comes to his rescue. Sort of.</p><p>Prompt was:  S8, after Lister dumps the sexual magnetism virus over Rimmer, Kochanski rescues him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Used

That feeling was back. That pull of raw sexual energy – it was somewhere in front of her. Kochanski clawed her way through the larger men, shoving and scratching at them to reach her target. 

She found Rimmer cowering down in a pitiful attempt to protect himself. She grabbed his forearm and pulled him away from the men who _dared_ touch him. 

"Smeg off!" she yelled, kneeing one of the offenders in the groin as she pulled Rimmer from the sexual fray. Rimmer was wide-eyed and scared, a sheen of sweat a mix of his own and the grubby, hungry hands that had pawed at him. She fought her way through the men shouting and pulling at them, holding fast to Rimmer's arm until they were free of the mob. 

The sounds of fighting broke out behind them, urging her to move faster, Rimmer half-stumbling to keep up with her as she dragged him along. He babbled his thanks in an unending stream of words, but it was his voice that captured her attention: Grateful. Confused. Trembling.

She didn't dare glance back at him. It was bad enough she could feel him, sense him; _need_ so strong it was almost overpowering. With each step, she felt the wetness spread through her panties. She rounded the corner toward her cell block, hearing shouts about a riot as she searched frantically for her cell. 

"What are you doing?" he asked nervously as she braced her legs and swung her arm, throwing him forward into her newly assigned cell. 

One hand gripped his shoulder, pulling him down to crash her mouth onto his. Her other hand pressed up between his thighs, eliciting a high-pitched squeak from him as she located her target. She made a pleased sound as she rubbed him through his jump suit, liking what she was feeling. The throbbing between her thighs was becoming a distraction, but he was limp beneath her hand. She increased her efforts as best she could through the thick material; she _would_ get what she craved. 

He wasn’t much of a kisser, but as she nipped and licked and moaned against his mouth, he began to kiss her back. She felt his hands settle tentatively on her waist, and she rewarded him with a tongue slipped between his lips. She pressed harder, her mouth and her hand drawing little pained sounds from the back of his throat. 

He did nothing to help her unzip his jump suit or shove it down to his waist. He simply stood, staring at her with a mixture of bewilderment and desire. She murmured approvingly when she saw how well-built he was. Hiding under that bulky jump suit was a solid chest and strong-looking arms. As she studied him, she saw a flush creep down his neck and upper chest. She touched the warm skin, stroking downward and moaning softly at how little _give_ there was. She licked and bit her way down his chest, ending up on her knees as she dragged the suit down his legs, leaving her head level with his half-hard penis. 

She paused to push the heel of her hand against the pulsing ache between her thighs, rubbing herself in anticipation. She made quick work of his laces and tugged off his boots, his suit finally free of his feet. As she rose to her knees to reach for his underwear, she glanced up at him. He looked so lost: fear nearly overrun by the yearning in his gaze. As she watched, his tongue nervously darted out to lick his lips, giving her naughty, vivid ideas of how to put it to good use. Keeping her eyes locked with his, she reached around to grasp his ass, leaned forward and mouthed his erection through the thin material. 

A stuttering moan fell from his lips and his hand twitched as if wanting something to grab hold of. She placed his hand on the back of her head, watching his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. Carefully pulling down his underwear, she let them drop to his ankles. Her nose pressed against his curls, she breathed him in: musky and manly and sending her arousal spiking. She mouthed up the underside, flicking her tongue out to taste as his hand slowly increased in pressure against her head. She wrapped a hand around the shaft, rubbing in a twisting motion as she licked the head. 

His erection jerked in her hand, his breathing changed, and to her disappointment, she felt the pulses of his orgasm starting. He groaned, his mouth forming a perfect little 'o' of surprise as he dribbled over her hand. Red blotches of embarrassment highlighted his cheeks, his breathing uneven as he turned his head away from her. 

With his hesitancy to touch her, his lackluster kissing, his blush and _that_ reaction, she figured he was either a virgin or very inexperienced. A thrill of unexpected pleasure spiraled deep within her, wiping out her disappointment. She would get to mold him; show him exactly how to please a woman; how to please _her_. She tightened her fist around his softening shaft, a surge of _power_ and _dominance_ flooding her as he looked down at her helplessly, sweat breaking out on his forehead and his expression bordering on distress. 

"How sensitive are you?" she asked as she started to stroke him. He shivered but didn't answer. She tightened her grip and he bucked his hips, a soft moan escaping from his parted lips. Taking that as a definitive answer, she licked him clean, wrapped her lips around the head and coaxed him back to hardness. 

Her clit pulsed in time with her heartbeat as she sucked him down, keeping firm hold of his hips to stop him from thrusting too hard. She let out a whine as his fingers tightened in her hair, bringing his hand back to her head when it dropped away. She moaned around her mouthful, pulling off to lick the underside and mouth his balls, her saliva dripping from his skin. 

She groaned in frustration as she forced him to the back of her throat. The stretch of her mouth wasn't enough. His taste wasn't enough. She was aching, wet and shivering, and she needed _more_. 

He was making little needy sounds, plaintive and desperate. His eyes were squeezed shut, his lower lip being indented by his teeth. She released him as she stood up, using her thumbs to pry his lip from between his teeth. She sucked the abused bit of flesh into her mouth, dragging her teeth over the indention marks, worrying it back and forth until he made another pained noise. 

She was loving the sounds he made, such a perfect indicator of what he was feeling. She took a step back, locking gazes with him. "Strip me," she ordered, her tone firm and sharp. 

He jumped a bit and it was all she could do to contain herself. She didn’t really have the patience to wait for his fumbling fingers to undo the zip, but she breathed deeply, his scent and arousal fueling hers. Anticipation built as he pushed the top of her jump suit down, leaving her in a thin t-shirt. He seemed frozen, unable to stop staring at her breasts. 

She took both his hands and placed them over her breasts, pushing forward into his sweaty palms. It wasn't nearly enough. "Harder," she grunted, holding onto his upper arms as she mashed her breasts against the heels of his hands. The pressure was better, but still not enough. With a growl, she tore her t-shirt over her head and flung her bra away, returning his hands to her bare breasts. "Squeeze them," she half-begged, half-ordered. "Twist them. Pull at them. Scratch them with your nails…" she broke off in a moan as he complied, though his touch was too gentle. "I'm not _fragile_ ," she snapped, arching into his hands. He gradually increased the pressure until her legs threatened to give out and she felt her wetness spreading to the crotch of her jump suit. 

She watched as his tongue danced over his lips, saw the raw hunger in his eyes and her head swam with lustful possessiveness. She grasped his head and angled his mouth over one pert, aching nipple. "Lick it." 

She took a sharp breath as she felt a wet flick against the nub, the faintest of sensations but not what she wanted. "Suck it. Bite it. _Hard_." She held his head against her breast, his mouth eventually opening to suck gently. She clasped her fingers around hunks of his hair and shoved him until she felt his teeth against her skin. "Like that. Just like that," she groaned as his mouth opened wide and the tip of his tongue played with her nipple. 

Emboldened by her encouraging moans and her guiding hands, he finally became more aggressive, biting and tugging the nipple between his teeth until she pulled him away, then he dove for her other breast, giving it the same attention. It felt smegging fantastic, but it wasn't what she was aching for. 

Breathing heavily, she shoved him away and stripped out of the rest of her clothes. He followed her to the cramped bunk like an obedient puppy, but stood indecisively as she lay down and spread her legs, propping one foot on the floor and the other on the bed. "Kneel," she commanded softly. 

He sank to the floor, his eyes dark and fixated on her spread thighs. A throb of lust hit all her pleasure points as his tongue swiped across his lips again. He moved toward her with the lightest touch to the back of his head, bending down until his quick breaths were gusting over her pussy. "Lick me," she muttered as she pressed his head down, letting out a strangled noise as his mouth touched her lips. "Use your tongue to open…press up…" she cried out as his tongue stroked her clit, then his mouth wrapped around the entire area and he moaned, the vibrations rippling all the way up to her teeth. 

She raised her hips as she held his head, using both hands to guide him where she wanted. She made encouraging noises, bucking her hips when he hit just the right spot. She was so close, the pressure building swiftly as he flicked his tongue from side to side, the same movement she'd seen him do when he was nervous, only now it was to her building orgasm. "Faster," she panted breathlessly as she squirmed, moaning as her thighs tightened around his head, holding him there as she rode out her climax. 

Legs still shaky, she spread her thighs again and repositioned his mouth. "Keep licking." He obediently brought her to another climax a few moments later. She was breathing hard, her body slick with sweat but she still wasn't satisfied. 

She let him go and he immediately wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing her juices across his cheek. Her clit throbbed and she demanded, "Condom; find a condom." She sat up to watch his ass as he searched her footlocker, rubbing at her clit as his muscles tensed and flexed with his movements. 

He pulled out a string of foil packets and held them aloft, his expression an odd mix of hopeful and terrified. She snatched the packs from his shaking fingers, ripped one open and rolled the condom down his straining erection. She slid off the bed and pushed on his chest until he lay supine, one leg balanced on the floor and the other stretched out on the bed. She straddled his thighs and leaned over him, scratching her nails down his chest as his mouth opened to her bruising kiss. 

The bunk wasn't made for sex, but it would have to do; she had to have him inside her. Her thighs were wet with her juices and she was still throbbing from her orgasms, but her lust was unquenchable. She gripped his erection, purring in satisfaction at the firm, thick member. Despite her slickness, he was a tight fit as she sank down on him with a relieved sigh, his surprised groan reverberating up her spine. 

She used his chest as leverage to bounce on him, her head thrown back as the friction built quickly inside her. Before she reached the point of no return, she slowed down to a roll of her hips, bracing herself with her hands on the wall behind his head. He stared up at her in awe, features tight with lust and tension. His hands were resting uselessly on her waist, but she could see the jumping muscles in his arms. He was holding back incredible strength and it sent a shockwave of arousal through her entire body. 

"Touch me," she gasped. "Rub my clit with your thumb. Suck my breast." She groaned in relief as his thumb immediately granted her wish. It took more work to get the angle right for him to take her breast into his mouth, but he held tight to her nipple with his teeth. His other hand pinched her other nipple, twisting it sharply. Pleasure radiated from each of his touch points, and she was torn between impaling herself on his cock and letting him continue mauling her breasts. 

"Smeg, Rimmer," she gasped breathlessly as he thrust deeply, his thumb circling over her clit in an endless motion. Her body was tensing, racing at the speed of light toward a shattering climax. "More…just a little more… _smeg_ ," she cried as her body convulsed around him. 

Through her exquisite torture, she felt him slamming up into her, a faint cry of, "Geronimo," accompanying him pulsing inside her. She collapsed on his chest, sweaty and panting for air and feeling thoroughly satisfied. 

Then she felt him slide out of her, and the _ache_ began again. 

Muscles still trembling, she pressed open-mouthed kisses to his rapidly rising and falling chest, lapping at the salty sweat. She reached down to remove the condom, tossing it away as she licked his abdomen. His scent was strong, and her nails dug into his flesh as she was filled with wanton urges. 

She stared at him over his spent cock, his expression puzzled and hurt. His voice sounded utterly wrung out as he asked, "Kris, what…?"

She squeezed his thighs, stopping his question in mid-syllable as his breath caught in his chest. She pushed off of him and said, "Get up," though her voice was too breathless to convey it as an order. 

His soft groan was more pitiful whine, but he complied clumsily. She fell back on the bed and spread her thighs, reaching out to get a handful of his ass. "I'm not done with you yet, Rimmer," she said darkly. 

He looked alarmed and anxious, but she slapped his ass and fixed him with her sternest look; the one she used to use on her Rimmer when he was being particularly lazy and she had to order him to do his damn job. "Get on your smegging knees and get your smegging face between my legs." 

The bed dipped as he levered himself to his knees, mild disgust on his features as his gaze fell between her thighs. "But I was just…" 

She dug her fingers into his hair and tugged him forward. He landed with his face on her stomach, panting hard against her skin. She felt a twinge of something in her chest; sympathy maybe, or pity. "You can use your fingers," she offered magnanimously. She impatiently instructed him where to touch her, how much pressure to use, where to rub and how hard to thrust. It wasn't the best finger-fuck she'd ever had, but it got her off with a low, pleased groan. 

The bed was damp beneath her as sweat rolled off of her well-fucked body. She was still panting, her body tingling in all the best places. With a satisfied hum, she stroked her hand up Rimmer's arm to his shoulder, pulling him in for a deep, probing kiss. She played with his tongue, licked over his teeth and nibbled on his lips, thrilling at each agonized moan she dragged from him. She traced her palms over the muscles on his back and arms, marveling at how well-toned he was for a maintenance repair technician. She grabbed handfuls of his ass and squeezed, delighting at the perfect blend of muscle and tissue, enough to grab hold of without being too hard. She felt his hand at her hip, stroking up her side to her breast. He lingered there, his palm hot against her flesh, then his thumb circled her areola, brushing gently against her nipple. She moaned softly and dragged her legs up the outsides of his thighs, squeezing him gently. 

_Smeg_ , if she could tie him to her bed, she'd never let him go. Keep him as her personal sex aid, primed and ready for her whenever she wanted. No more bringing herself to orgasm. No more endless nights by herself, too afraid to proposition Dave and be disappointed when he did the same things _her_ Dave did. Her Dave was a gentle and kind lover, bringing her to satisfying climaxes once a week like clockwork, but it was always the same. He didn't add any spice or variety to their lovemaking, and while it was pleasant, some nights she just wanted to be brought to a screaming orgasm. She wanted sweaty and rough and biting. She wanted orders and dominance and pure lust. She wanted _Rimmer_. 

She broke off from the kiss and arched upward as she felt his stiff cock against her stomach. "Yes," she groaned. "Need you inside me again. Fill me up." She wrapped her legs around his waist as he slid inside her easily, pressing deep until he was tight against her. She shivered; he was as deep as he could go, but she needed more. She held onto his shoulders as she stared into his eyes, his pupils nearly black with lust. "Fuck me hard, Rimmer," she instructed quietly. "Show me how much you want me. Make me scream." 

Something dark passed over his features; something primal. He held her gaze as he pulled out and thrust back in, slapping against her roughly. Her back arched into the sensation, loving the sting of his flesh meeting hers. "Yeah," she groaned softly. 

He braced his left hand on her shin, slowly pressing her leg back until her thigh was against her breast. She drew her other leg up to her chest, and desire flared deep and hot in his gaze. Jolts of pleasure shot through her as he shifted inside her, carefully spread his knees until he framed her ass. He moved each of his hands in closer to her shoulders, essentially penning her in. 

Then he ensnared her with his lust-filled gaze, and a delicious thrill went through her as she witnessed his transformation from near-virginal into a creative lover. She let out a stuttering groan as he slowly rested his weight on her. She was unable to draw a deep breath, her body overheating as pure _want_ surged through her. Her vision grew darker as she was only able to draw small gasps through her constricted chest. Her focus turned inward, feeling the blood rushing through her veins, the slide of his skin against hers with their labored breathing, the pounding of her heart in her throat, the throb of his cock stretching and filling her. 

Sweat trickled down from his hair and dripped off his cheek. "This what you want?" he growled, his voice absolutely shredded. 

His utter dominance of her was everything she'd ever wanted from Dave, and something inside her just…released. Her tensed muscles relaxed as she sank into her calm center, allowing his full weight to press her body into the mattress. She lifted her head, straining her neck to reach his mouth. She was just able to touch his lips, breathing, "Use me. I'm yours," against them.

He closed his eyes as he slowly pushed off of her chest, allowing her to breathe again, but only for a moment. She fell back with a groan as his hips snapped against hers, the new position changing the angle of his penetration. He sealed his mouth over hers as he began to thrust, his whole body rubbing against hers with each rocking motion. 

His tongue slicked against hers, muffling her rising cries as he banged her clit over and over, driving her to a constant state of mild orgasm. She couldn't really touch him; her arms were trapped at her sides, and the knowledge that he was using her, that he could do _anything_ to her and she just had to _take_ it, sent her climax skyrocketing. She shook with the powerful convulsions, unable to make a sound as he continued to pound into her, drawing out her orgasm that much more. 

" _Smeg_." He groaned loud and long, throbbing inside her tight channel and setting off another burst of pleasure from deep within her. 

They lay for long minutes, the only sounds their breathing and the occasional whimper as a muscle twitched. She was still tucked up tight beneath him, struggling for each breath as he didn't seem capable of moving. Warm sweat rolled off of him onto her skin, mingling with her rapidly cooling sweat and trailing down to the bed. 

He finally shifted, pulling the rest of the way out of her as gently as he could. His voice was unrecognizable, rough and dark with self-recrimination. "Did I hurt you?" 

She bit her lip as she lowered her aching legs, the muscles strained from their unnatural, cramped position. "Not really," she replied, barely recognizing her own voice. As she pushed herself to sitting in the cramped space, she noticed two things straight away: the red welts on Rimmer's shoulders and the slide of liquid dripping out of her rather tender vagina. 

Panic rose and gripped her around the throat, until her rational mind reminded her that she'd just had her period a few days ago. As her panic ebbed away, she found herself drawn to Rimmer, sitting eerily still. 

His head was bowed, his hands resting on his thighs, and there was an aura of resignation about him. Along with the angry marks on his shoulders, there were ragged lines down his chest from her nails, interspersed with bite marks and blossoming bruises. As her gaze slipped lower, she gasped quietly; his limp penis was swollen and red. Had she done all of that to him? How could she have been so reckless; so _careless_? She was a considerate lover, not a – a –

Rimmer's voice was quiet as he interrupted her thoughts. "When we were undergoing psychotropic testing, I thought I had sex with four officers. I'd taken a swig of the sexual magnetism virus, not realizing how potent it was. It felt good to be…wanted. To be – desired – by so many women. They were almost fighting to get a chance to have sex with me. Just like the prisoners in the yard." 

She broke out in a cold sweat at Rimmer's words; her stomach giving a sour, sickening _lurch_ as realization began to sink in. Her hand slowly came up to cover her mouth, tasting bile at the back of her throat. Her head was shaking before she realized it, not wanting to believe what he was implying. 

He looked up then, right at her, and his expression was utterly blank. "This wasn't real," he stated in a flat monotone. "It was the virus. Lister must have kept that vial and somehow infected me." 

That _feeling_. That overpowering burst of raw sexual energy she'd felt back in the prison yard; she'd thought it had felt familiar. In AR, when Rimmer entered the room, she'd had to be held back from him…and Dave. She remembered being in the lift with Dave and sensing something different about him, then kissing him. He'd admitted to having a bit of the virus still on his fingers. "Oh, God," she moaned as she drew her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her knees, the horror of what she'd done washing over her. 

The only difference between then and now, was that they weren't in AR anymore. Everything that had happened since she'd _sensed_ Rimmer in the prison yard had been erotically, agonizingly _real_. She'd really done those things to him. She'd really made him do those things to her. Her eyes widened in shock as events replayed themselves, seeing herself as she'd behaved without the haze of lust blinding her. She felt her face burning with deep shame at her treatment of him, hefty doses of guilt and disgust twisting her stomach in knots. She'd actually wanted to keep him as a _sex aid_. What kind of person thinks that?

"It wasn't you," his voice invaded her thoughts. "Whatever you're thinking; whatever you're remembering, it wasn't you." His distant veneer had cracked, letting slip a hint of the torment and despair that was bubbling below the surface. "You weren't yourself. The virus clearly made you do things you normally wouldn't do." 

There was something in his voice that broke through to her. Not the reassurance, but the idea that he wasn't just speaking in platitudes; that he truly understood what she was going through. 

His head was down again, his fingers idly scratching at the bedding as he began speaking softly. "Everything…it happened so fast. When the other inmates started to touch me, I felt a ripple of desire. I recognized it, was horrified that it was happening _now_ , with all those large, scary criminals surrounding me. I dropped to the floor to try to crawl away, but they kept tugging at my clothes, trying to…I was so scared of what…" his voice lost its strength and his chest rose and fell quickly with his short, panicked breaths. 

A cold chill raced up her spine at his words. She was horrified by what she'd done to him, but she wasn't the only one hurt by this. Rimmer had been a victim, too. He hadn't used the virus himself; someone had forced it on him. He didn't ask for this any more than she did. "It's okay, Rimmer. It's not your fault." 

Rather than calming him, her assurance seemed to rattle him more. "When you pulled me free of them, I was so relieved and so grateful that I didn’t realize that you'd been affected, too. Not at first. I should have said something when you started kissing me, but I was still shocked at what had happened, trying to figure out how I'd gotten the virus. So I sort of just…let it happen. And then it was too late." 

Even though his head was down, she could still see that his cheeks were flushed a dark red. His next words were barely audible: "I was too afraid of hurting you to force you to stop, then I didn't know how to tell you to stop because…I liked it too much. I didn't _want_ you to stop." He raised his head and she couldn't hold back her gasp; he looked completely shattered – devastated and despondent with a sheen of tears in his eyes. "I used you just as much as you used me – no, _worse_ , because I knew what was happening and I did nothing to stop it. I'm a terrible person and I deserve every vile, loathsome word you can think of. I probably deserved this," he indicated his reddened penis with a flick of his wrist. "I'm sorry. I know it doesn’t excuse what I did, but I owe you that at the very least. I'm so sorry. I never meant it to get so…"

His voice faltered, then stopped, leaving an uncomfortable silence.

It would be so easy to blame him. One quick word would exonerate her of any responsibility of what had happened between them; saying it was the virus and worse, that he'd _known_ it was the virus and hadn't stopped her. But she was vividly aware of how powerful she'd felt, and how pliant and submissive he'd been to her commands. He had the strength – she'd felt that in his arms and thighs – but he didn't have the will. She'd felt invincible when she'd pulled him from the mob of inmates. If she could fight her way through a hoard of sex-fueled, angry prisoners, then Rimmer wouldn't have stood much of a chance at stopping her. If he'd tried, one or both of them might have been seriously hurt. 

"It's not your fault, Rimmer," she repeated, this time with unwavering conviction. "We were both under the influence of that terrible virus, and whether or not you could have stopped me is no longer up for debate. We can't answer it, so it doesn't matter. What matters is what happens now." 

Her eyes were drawn to his throat as he swallowed thickly, remembering how his gaze had shined down at her in amazement as she'd sucked him down. His voice cracked as he asked, half-afraid, "What happens now?" 

She uncurled from her safe huddle, reaching out to him. He shifted away from her touch, letting out a hiss as a flash of pain crossed his features. She let her hand drop and retreated, feeling the warmth of an embarrassed flush heating her skin. No matter what he might or might not have done to her, _she'd_ done that to him. "You should see a doctor." 

His laugh was hollow as he shook his head. "And tell them what? They'd ask questions I don't think either of us wants to answer." 

She bit her lip, hating what she was thinking of suggesting. "You could tell them you were hurt in the riot." 

Rimmer looked down at his chest and grimaced. "I'm not the most sexually experienced person, but even I don't think these can be mistaken for anything other than marks of passion." He shook his head, his features set in determination. "Even if they did believe me, they'd want to know who did it. I don't want to get you in trouble." He pushed himself off the bed, standing up unsteadily. 

Kochanski found her legs weren’t very solid beneath her, either as she stood. "Where are you going, then?" she prodded him as he bent down to retrieve his underwear and pulled them on with a hiss of pain. She held her tongue between her teeth as she dressed quickly, her own body's aches quickly making themselves known. 

When she turned back to him, his hands were clenched into fists as his sides as he breathed deeply, standing with his legs slightly apart. If she hadn't felt bad enough at using him like a sex toy, now she had to watch him suffer the consequences of their rough play. And there wasn't a smegging thing she could do to help him. 

He finally answered her. "I'll find my cell block. I'll pretend I was hiding during the fighting. I don't think anyone would question that." With a sigh, he leaned over to get his jump suit, hesitating with his fingers an inch from the material. "There are stains on this." 

She cleared her throat nervously. "It was probably beneath you when you…you know. After I," she jerked her head in random patterns, too embarrassed to say aloud what she'd practiced not an hour ago. 

He frowned and picked up the suit by the leg. "No, these wet patches are by the shoulders. And it's – red." He let his suit fall to the floor and stepped back. "It's the virus," he said with a strangled tone. 

Her eyes narrowed as she glared at the offending item of clothing. Rimmer couldn't sneak back to his cell in his underwear and she had no extra clothing to lend him; not that any would fit his larger frame. "Do you think washing it would dilute the virus?" It was then she noticed him staring at her, vibrating with anticipation and dread. It took a moment for her to realize that he was waiting for her to jump him again. "You can relax," she said as gently as she could. "I don't have any sudden urges to cover you in chocolate." 

He barked out startled laughter, easing the tension that had settled over them. "No, I don’t suppose you'd be bothering to talk to me if you were still affected." A shiver went through him. "I don't want to put that on, though." 

She thought quickly. They weren't issued anything sharp like a knife or scissors, so she couldn't simply cut the virus-infected bit of cloth away. "What about ripping it off?" 

She hadn't realized she'd said it aloud until Rimmer answered, "Then do what with it? I don't want anyone else to be hurt by it." 

A prison cell gave her limited options, but she did have a sink and toilet. "We rip that bit off and stuff it down the toilet. The water will dilute the virus and the evidence will be carried away." 

Pessimistic Rimmer returned with a vengeance. "What if it stops up? What if it floods over the floor and the virus has just enough potency left in it to affect everyone in this block?" 

She closed her eyes and ran her hands over her face, pushing back her straggly, sweaty hair. "Focus, Rimmer. The point is to make your suit fit for wearing. Give me a hand."

Thankfully, JMC prison jump suits were made as quality as their towels and ships. The suit already had a few tears – possibly from Rimmer's ordeal in the yard – so that made it easier to rip a large section around the affected material, the piping unraveling until it fell to the floor. Kochanski picked up the stained section with her towel, then dropped it in the toilet. She looked to Rimmer, standing a few feet away. "Do you want to do the honors or shall I?" 

Her breath caught as he licked his lips nervously, her body remembering the pleasures that tongue had wrought. "Just get rid of the damned thing," he sighed impatiently. 

She pushed on the handle and watched as the material was sucked down the drain. She flushed again, just to make sure it had gone down. "It's done. It's over." 

When he didn't say anything, she looked over to him, watching as he rubbed thoughtfully at a bruise forming on his arm. Sensing her stare, he quirked an odd smile at her. "The virus may be gone, but the scars remain." Before she could think what to say, he'd pulled on his suit and was walking out of her cell. 

He paused when he reached the bars, pitching his voice low. "It's probably not appropriate to say this with everything that's happened, but thank you for being so understanding. Someone else – anyone else – would have ripped off my sexual organs and force-fed them to me after finding out what really happened." 

Her mouth fell open as he quickly put distance between himself and her cell, touched by his quiet concern for her and stunned at the maturity he'd shown. "Damn it, Rimmer," she muttered. "I was perfectly happy hating you for being a lying, cheating weasel. Why did you have to be selfless and mature about this?"


End file.
